


Breaking That "Sir" Habit

by thecookiemomma



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, NFA Challenge Response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs starts at NIS right out of the Marine Corps. It's a totally different world, but he'll be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking That "Sir" Habit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "First and/or Last Day" challenge on NFA

Breaking That “Sir” Habit

Leroy Jethro Gibbs walked into the building, hair trimmed properly, wearing a suit and tie, and nodding to people as he passed. He wasn't sure exactly what all he'd be doing with Agent Franks, so he wanted to make a good first impression. He sipped on the cup of coffee he'd grabbed on the way, and waited for his superior – supervisor to come in. He'd have to remember he wasn't in the Corps anymore. 

The man himself walked in a couple minutes later. “Sir.” Gibbs automatically snapped to attention. Old habits died hard. It didn't have the reaction he was expecting. Any of them. 

Mike Franks set his coffee down, and then broke out in laughter. “You really are straight outta the Corps, aren't you boy?” The old man walked toward him, cigarette still in his mouth, tie askew. It hit Jethro just how different this place was. 

_Definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto,_ his mind supplied, bittersweet. “Sir, yes, sir.” Gibbs replied again out of habit. 

“Cut that crap out right now.” Gibbs was surprised to feel the flat of a hand smack the back of his head. “You call me sir, I slap your head. You do it too many times in a row, I use ...” He paused, pulling something metallic from his pocket. “These.” Gibbs turned around to see what 'these' were, and was floored to see a set of brass knuckles. “That don't work, Probie, I dump your coffee.” Franks' eyes narrowed, and Gibbs nodded. 

“Yes...” He paused. “What should I call you, then?” He had to have some sort of form of address. 

“Franks. Or Boss.” 

That was an easy enough substitute, he thought. “Yes, Boss.” 

“Now you're gettin' it.” Franks looked pleased. “Quick learner, Probie. C'mon. Grab the gear. We got a case.” 

Without a second thought, Gibbs grabbed the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and followed his boss out of the orange room, pausing to grab his coffee mug on the way. 

The man drove like a bat outta hell, but they got to the site quickly. He gazed around, taking in the people standing around, the local cops looking annoyed, and the way Franks just strode past everyone toward the bodies. “Magnus'll be here soon, so we gotta sketch and shoot. You remember what you learned?” Mike gestured toward the body. 

Gibbs began reciting in the manner he'd done in Basic. “Take pictures of the scene. Make sure to note any inconsistencies or oddities with a picture.” 

Mike nodded. “Good. Pull out the camera, and start takin'.” He walked away to start talking to the witnesses, and Gibbs looked down at the camera. He paused, thinking like he would in his sniper's nest, and considered what would be important to discovering how the man died. He snapped several pictures, changing angle and point of view, then moved to another place, repeating the process. His training materials had said that a good series of pictures could take up to two rolls for a strange scene, but this one appeared fairly standard. 

By the time he'd almost filled a roll, Mike was back. “Good enough, Probie. Now. Sketch. Doesn't have t' be Marilyn on a couch. Just a general idea of his size and where everything was in relation to the body. Don't need an oilpainting. That's what we got the pictures for.” 

Gibbs nodded again, pulling out the sketchbook. This was the part he was more worried about, because it didn't require the perfection and precision that he was used to in his reports. However, he knew that would come later. He sketched out the body in a general position, noting the couple weird things he'd seen with notations and footnotes, and went on drawing the bits of things he saw. Apparently, it was good enough for the old man, because Mike looked over his shoulder, patted it approvingly, and nodded. 

“C'mon, kid. I talked to the LEOs and the witnesses. All we gotta do is wait for Magnus.” Almost as soon as he'd said that, the coroner's van pulled up. Magnus and his assistant hopped out. “Hey, Doc,” Mike called, directing his attention toward the corpse. 

“I'm coming, Franks. Don't get your panties in a wad.” The doctor sounded like he was teasing, instead of being really annoyed. 

“Can't get em in a wad if I ain't wearin' any,” Mike quipped, just as lightly. Gibbs rolled his eyes at his boss, and watched in silence as the men ran through their procedures. 

“So?” Mike interrupted them not five minutes later. 

Magnus huffed, but it appeared to be a token protest. “Michael, if you'll give me a moment, I'll tell you all I know.” 

“Won't take that long, doc.” Mike grinned, pulling out a cigarette, and flicking a lighter while he waited. 

“Who's the new kid, Franks?” The assistant spoke for the first time. 

“Gibbs.” Franks replied, that grin still pasted on his face. “Still in the Corps, I think. He almost saluted me.” 

A light blush colored Gibbs' cheek as he realized the truth of the man's words. “Well, you spend ten years somewhere and try not to follow the rules the next place you go.” 

“The man's got a point, Agent.” Magnus replied, pulling a thermometer type thing from the backside of the corpse. “Time of death is around 1800 last night, and accounting for the weather... right.” He made some notations on his notepad and Gibbs noticed Franks doing the same. He made a mental note to stock up on little steno notepads and pens. “I think it might have been poisoned, Mike, but I can't give you the complete and God's honest truth until I've got him under the knife. You know that.” 

“Sure. Well, that'll give us somethin' to start lookin' into. C'mon Probie, let's let the geeks do their work.” Mike walked back toward the car, and Gibbs followed him, still silent until the doors shut. 

“What do we do next, Boss?” Gibbs made the substitution just in time. Said 'boss' looked over at him with that grin.  
“Scut work. Now we sit down, start callin' people, find out who mighta had it in for our boy here, and go talk to 'em. Then, if we find somebody a little suspicious, we bring 'em by the yard and talk to 'em some more.” The tone of Mike's voice implied that it was definitely more than just a pleasant conversation. 

“You hungry?” Mike glanced over at the diner as they drove near it. 

“Yeah. I could eat.” Gibbs replied, his gaze following Franks'. 

“Good. Gotta meet Elaine. She makes the best coffee you've had since you left the Corps. I'll guarantee it's better than almost anything you've had, or I'll buy you better for a week.” 

“Okay. I'll take that bet.” There wasn't any downside, that Gibbs could see. Good coffee, or free coffee, he won either way. He shrugged and walked into the building. 

“Mister Franks.” The lady came bustling over, setting a cup of coffee down in front of him. “And who's your friend? New Probationary Agent?” 

_Ahh. So, that's where the 'Probie' comes from. Got it._ Gibbs grinned. “Yes, ma'am. Jethro Gibbs.” 

“Well, now. This one's polite. You keep him, Mike Franks.” 

“Sure thing, Elaine. Unless he does somethin' stupid, I haven't seen a reason not to yet.” Franks took a sip of his coffee, then gestured to Gibbs. “Get him a cup of coffee with his meal. Man's just out of the Corps, and misses the black tar.” 

“One super strong coffee, comin' right up.” She set the menu down on the table, and walked back to get it. 

“So, this what we do? Go out, look at the bodies, then figure out whodunit?” Gibbs was amused. 

“Basically. That and a lot of crap paperwork.” Mike grinned, and Gibbs read between the lines. ' _You'll_ do a lot of crap paperwork.' He'd just gotten to where he'd passed on most of the paperwork to his sergeant. He sighed, and with the wink Mike gave him, Gibbs knew he'd guessed correctly. However, his interest was definitely piqued. He could do this. He'd probably be damn good at it, actually. 

“I think I'm gonna like it here, Boss.” Gibbs offered, sipping from the coffee that had just arrived. 

“I think you will too, kid.” Mike lifted his cup and saluted him, and called Elaine over to order their meal.


End file.
